Where are Ed Miliband's fairweather friends?

The Labour leader is being bitten by the mouths that until last week were praising him.

Come on then, where are you? Purveyors of the "new politics", advocates of the new progressive order. Your man is in trouble. Ed Miliband is getting what is known in technical parlance as a bloody good kicking. And yet you're silent. You plastic loyalists are nowhere.

We were all supposed to be rallying around, weren't we? Marching in step. "Back the leader" was the mantra. Back the leader until he does something significant we don't like; then we can cut him loose.

My Twitter account is strangely silent. There are no angry missives from chief lieutenant Peter Hain today.

"The strikes are a mistake," said Ed Miliband on Friday. Then, we waited for his loyal aides to follow up in support -- and we waited. "I don't think political leaders, in opposition or in government, should either applaud strikes or condemn strikes," said Hain on Sunday. Jesus. With friends like these...

Miliband is leader of the Labour Party. In my opinion, he hasn't been a particularly impressive leader of the Labour Party, but at the moment he's the only leader we've got. He's not going to become a better leader by backing the strike action. I support the strikers, and I've said so. I think they have right on their side, and I think they have a chance of victory.

But once Miliband became leader of the Labour Party, he relinquished the luxury of speaking out exclusively on behalf of those with whom he has empathy. Once he was elected Leader of the Labour Party, he took on the responsibility of speaking for the country.

You were the ones that elected him -- those of you who now cry betrayal the loudest. You put him in that position of responsibility. And having done so, you now chose to castigate him when he exercises it.

What did you think you were doing -- electing the president of a student union? This man is putting himself forward for the job of prime minister of the country. He can't pick up a placard and take a stroll along the picket lines.

I wish he could. I wish we did live in a country where the majority of our fellow citizens were members of a trade union, and shared their values and objectives, but many of our fellow citizens don't. We know that, because we're on the streets, and David Cameron and Nick Clegg are sitting around the table with their feet up, having a good laugh at Miliband being bitten by the mouths that until last week were praising him.

You didn't actually believe all this rubbish about the new politics, and no more triangulation, and no more pandering the press, did you? There is no "new politics". There never will be. There is only the same soul-destroying, self-crucifying struggle to push the boulder back to the top of the hill. You knew that when you signed up, when you joined the Labour Party, when you chose to make a difference.

So come on, fairweather friends. You talked a good game when the sun was shining and you were basking in the accolades of the progressive majority.

Now let's see what you're really made of. Your man'st in trouble. That means you: Sadiq Khan, Peter Hain, Jon Tricket, Chuka Umunna, Seamus Milne, Neal Lawson, Jacqui Ashley.

I'm standing up for Ed Miliband. Where the hell are you?

 

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser